


Paradise Lost

by Neca



Series: Redemption [2]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Always a bit of Sex around, Azrael is badass, Deckerstar - Freeform, Emotionally hurt Lucifer, F/M, I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up To No Good, I mean the cannot procreate, I so desperately need a beta reader, Is going to be explicit later on, It's not gross if they are Angels, Lucifer will be in a lot of pain, Lucifer will find back to his old self sooner or later, Other, THIS IS SO EXCITING, all main characters are on board for this, but it could be porn later on, it's plot right now, maybe someone will die sooner or later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-09-26 03:50:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9861122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neca/pseuds/Neca
Summary: Starts after S02x13, right now it's about coping mechanisms. Lucifer left for good, so someone has to bring him back, or otherwise it would be boring. He will return with a bang (and he is not in Vegas).Actually it's a love story, but it would be no fun to let the, just return to each other and everything will be alright. They need to earn each other. And there is still the obstacle of Mom trying to return to her ex-husband. And an angry Angel od Death who might sooner or later ask herself where this one blade may be that she can't find...It may help (but is not necessary) to read "Morningstar and Evenstar" before you start with this.





	1. Dulling the Pain

**Author's Note:**

> So, where to begin. Lucifer might be a bit OOC in this chapter, but after all he IS heartbroken. Minor mentions of sexual content, but nothing really explicit.

The pain was still there. It was just duller. It hid behind a foggy veil made of alcohol, drugs, and carnal pleasures. Lucifer knew that he had to keep his mind busy. And his body. As long as he kept going, as long he was able to move on with this downward spiral, he would be safe. His emotions would not be able to hit back full force as long as he kept himself occupied.

 

Lucifer was hurt. He felt betrayed. Worse, he felt _played_. His father had played him like an instrument, had made him a pawn in his forever ongoing game again, had tricked him into believing it was all real. He had not known about all the circumstances, had not known how many cards had been in the deck. He had been tricked into a decision, into a _choice that was none_. He had been denied his free will again.

 

After millenia of being alone, of not allowing himself to feel anything real for anyone, because of the consequences, because of all the pain love causes, or more the rejection of love, he had dared, dared to reach out to another soul, to a mortal soul for Heaven's sake. He had himself allowed to ever so slightly feel bliss, feel happiness, and what had it brought him? It had brought him to the ground, shattered him to pieces.

 

But this time he had learned his lesson. He was just not worthy of love. This moment an eternity ago, this moment when he had dared to question Him, question His plan and decisions, this moment he had been doomed. No happiness for Lucifer. Never again. No more joy, no more bliss, no more Heaven. Never again. And he, in a moment of weakness, he had been stupid. He had lowered his guards, had allowed himself to hope. Hope that after all this years he was allowed at least a little bit of love and happiness. A connection to another soul, and if it was just for the blink of a moment that a human being's lifespan was. Oh, what a mistake that had been. He was still not worthy. And the pain was still there. And it hurt so much. It was excruciating. He was falling all over again.

 

The fog in his mind started to clear. Panic-stricken, Lucifer grabbed hold of the bottle that was standing next to his bed. Empty. He cursed. This should not have happened. He thought that he had bought enough yesterday to make sure that the alcohol would keep going for at least another four hours. It had taken him quite some time to find a place and a drink that had enough impact on his - unfortunately - immortal und invulnerable body to keep the fog going. Well, mused Lucifer, at least the heroin and the men kept coming. He sighed and got up. So his trip to the outside world would happen a few hours earlier than expected today.

 

After weeks and weeks of restless travel, or more accurately being on the run, he had finally found a place where he could settle, where he could rest. He had been so unbelievably tired, which was kind of amusing for someone who did not need to sleep at all. Oh, he could sleep if he _wanted_ to, but he did not need to. He had found this place, a sleazy, cheap hotel, dirty and full of whores, drug addicts and lost souls, just like him. It was perfect. He had made a deal with the owner, who was letting him stay as long as he wanted, without asking for a name or bother with any kind of identification. He provided him with this exclusive accomodation for as long as he wished for, as long as he kept, in return, an eye on the other inhabitants of this hotel, who happened to be a lot of women of different ages, from way to young to surprisingly old, and took care of their safety whilst they had their very many different _visitors_ \- most of them came only once, but a few of these visitors might have been called "patrons".

 

It was an easy task. The few times he actually had to intervene because one of the visitors was impolite, he had just thrown them out of the window. The building had only two floors and they would always land on sand, so no harm was done. When he wasn't "on duty", he went on his usual tour - buying his daily dose of cheap drugs, usualley heroin that was blended with wathever, possibly rat poison, and as much bottles of self-made _Lao Khao_ Arthit, his favourite moon-shiner, could offer. The percentage of alcohol in every bottle could always only be roughly estimated, but it was never below 40%, usually way higher. The combination of the two substances kept him dizzy enogh to make it through the day. Then he would stroll through the streets surrounding his, in lack of a better word, hiding place, until he found a man who would fuck him. He always found one. This place was a Mekka for sin, lust, and desires, specializing in forbidden and unwanted ones. It was not a nice place. It was hard and dirty and consuming. The beautiful beaches and colourful ads could not delude visitors for long. Pattaya was a temple of filth.

 

He was searching for the brutes on purpose, those men who could not accept their own lust and desires, those who got angry during sex because it was so wrong of them to desire their own sex, because they were supposed to desire women. They usually got the urge to punish the men they were going down on for their own lustful thoughts, which led to them getting angry and rough and the sex usually became painful. The Devil loved to be hated by these men. They left his bedside always the same: full of self-loath because they had been satisfied in a way they had never been before, which made them hate themselves - and Lucifer - even more. How fitting. How disgraceful.

 

But it kept his mind occupied and dulled the pain.

 

* * *

 

 

Detective Chloe Decker had always been a fighter. No matter what shit life threw at her, she always kept going. The murder of her father, the hateful ignorance of her complete precinct after the Palmetto incident, separating from Dan, being shot, Trixie being kidnapped, divorcing Dan, her father's murder going free, being poisoned, and so on and so on. Whatever it was, she always took it, dealt with it, and went on. But this was different. This was another kind of shit. This was Lucifer.

 

He was her partner, her friend, the one person in the world she trusted entirely and completely, even blindly, even with her life. She had opened up to him, allowed herself to feel something. For him. She trusted him with not hurting her. Trusted him with her life. And he had let her down. He had left. Without a word, without so much as a _reason_. Chloe didn't unterstand. Why would he do that? After they finally had some kind of breakthrough, after their kiss, after everything they went through. Together. She wasn't entirely sure if she was hurt or angry, but most likely it was both. But both did not help her understand. Understand why he had just left.

Understand what he was talking about when he had stormed into her bedroom, asking _her if she knew all the time_ , but got distracted by her bleeding. She never found out what he was talking about.

 

She had so many questions. How did he get the formula that saved her? Why had Amenadiel stopped them from getting her into CT? What was happening between Lucifer and her? What was he feeling? Why had he left? What was he running away from? What was he was talking about when he had stormed into her bedroom, loudly and angrily asking her if she _knew this whole time_? Whatever it was that had made him leave, he obviously did not trust her enough to confide in her, even after all they had been through. That sucked. That hurt. It was _painful_.

 

But Chloe Decker was a fighter. She would not allow the pain to control her. So she kept herself busy. Taking care of Trixie and working a hell lot more shifts than necessary did the trick most of the time. But sometimes, when she was in her bed in the middle of the night, unable to find sleep, she just couldn't hold it anymore. That were her lowest moment, the moments she hated most, the moments when the tears came. She hated crying, but she just couldn't help it. How dare he leave her behind like this? How dare he make such a mess out of her? Whan she could not bear the tears anymore, she would try to occupy herself with something else. She would turn on the lights and take the thick blue file that she kept in her nightstand. _His_ file. All the little mysteries that surrounded him, all the subtleties that just did not fit properly. Somewhere in there, she was sure, was everything she needed to know. Why he left, what had scared him so much, what had upset him so much. _What she had done wrong_. Again and again she went through the file, searching for an answer that she just could not find. It was kind of sad.

 

But it kept her mind occupied and dulled the pain.

 

* * *

 

Thousands of kilometres away in an unknown, sheltered cave deep below the Chruch of the Holy Sepulchre, in the middle of the holy city of Jerusalem, the Angel of Death woke up from a rest that had lastet hundreds of years. What had woken her up? She had not intended to. What had startled her?

 

Suddenly, she felt a sting in her heart, a deep aching that was building up inside of her, so heavy that she would have lost her breath if she actually had to breath. This was not her ache, she realized. It was _his_. And suddenly, whilst still feeling this strange heartache, a wild joy filled Azrael. It was _him_. It was _her brother_. He had left Hell, he was walking Earth. Her thoughts darkened. And he was _in pain_.

 

Immediately, Azrael rose to her feet. Her brother was in pain. He needed her. And she would come for him.

 

 _Worry no more, brother dearest!_ she thought. _I'm on my way. I'm coming for you, Samael. I'm coming._

 


	2. Dropping Anchor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your comments and kudos on chapter one! I hope I can live up to your expectations :) A very special THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH! goes to tiredwriter, who is my beta! You are the best!
> 
> This chapter is entirely on Lucifer and Azrael. But don't worry, our favourite Detective is going to return pretty soon...
> 
> Just a note for later: This story is rated M. It might turn pretty violent at some point, and there definitely will be sex (this is a Lucifer fanfic after all). I may even have to change the warning to "Explicit" (but not yet). So, you have been warned :)

It took her some time to reach the place. After leaving her - well, let's call it crypt, even if it was not really one, after all, she had not been dead, she just had decided to let her eyes rest for a while - Azrael had needed a few moments to reorganize herself. She needed no more than a moment to realize a good three hundred and fifty years had passed, she read the constellations overhead with the ease of telling time on a watch; Earth had changed a lot since then. The first thing she noticed was the noise. Everything seemed so much louder than from before she laid down. Also, the technical evolution of humanity seemed to have sped up enormously, a development which came as an advantage to her (if you were an immortal celestial being that visited Earth sometimes twice a week, and sometimes twice a millennia, you learned to adjust very quickly).

 

Within a few hours Azrael had equipped herself with some basic necessities. If there was one thing you could trust it was a human's hunger for gold, and they were more than happy to provide her with their actual currency in exchange for a handful of the yellowish shiny metal. She spent a part of it on clothes that fit the current sense of fashion, settling on a simple black halter dress that swished around her knees and ballet flats.

 

When it came to means of transport, the development was much to the angel's dislike. Azrael did not want to just spread her wings and fly to her brother. Not until she found out for sure how advanced humanity had become with aerial surveillance. Better safe than sorry.

 

She decided to take a plane. Humans were now obviously able to build themselves devices for conquering the sky and, to be honest, she also was a bit curious about how they experienced flying. It was, after all, one of the most easily recognizable differences in appearance between human and angels - the ability to fly, the God-given wings. But Father's little creatures had found a way to conquer the sky without them. It was fascinating; even if their planes were tremendously slow. She could have reached her destination way faster, but this would have been boring. The flight would also give her time to adjust herself in the present a bit more. Before going to the airport, she had made a quick round in the city, and gotten herself a mobile phone - these seemed to be vital to humans - which she now used to research the last three and a half centuries. Azrael seemed to have slept through a very busy time for humans. A time in which they seemed to had gotten way better in killing each other (not that they had not had these tendencies since day one, but hey, they were getting better and better), which she considered a little bit impolite. Being the Angel of Death was, after all, her profession, no help needed, thank you very much.

 

When she arrived at the airport Azrael realized much to her dismay that humans had also developed an intense need for bureaucracy, including _identification_. Azrael had not known about that and did not really understand the concept and the idea behind it - but carrying around a piece of plastic or paper to prove your name seemed to be very important for humans. As she could not provide such a card (or a last name), taking a plane was off the table for now. Therefore, she was forced to use her wings.

 

As long as she waited for the night, they should (hopefully) not be able to see her. She was an angel, after all. And besides, the night was, in a kind of way, her. No one would be able to see her if she did not want to be seen. Or heard. Or whatever. She could melt into the darkness so well, she doubted that even her brother would be able to sense her at the beginning. So, after finding a dark place where she was all alone, she spread her wings and took off, unable to resist the urge to stretch her wings in the sky after so many centuries asleep (just a few dives and a loop, to test if everything still worked as it was supposed to), arriving in Pattaya later than she had planned.

 

It was a brothel. Her brother was staying in a _brothel_. In a _very_ sleazy brothel. She could smell the dirty sweaty bodies, the broken dreams, the diseases, the lost hope, all the filth that was what made this place so utterly disgraceful. And beneath all that layers of despair and shabbiness she could sense her brother, and how he welcomed all these layers of dirt. She entered the brothel and found her way upstairs. A minute later she was standing in front of a door, knowing that behind it was her brother. Her Samael. They had not seen each other for over a millenia. His visits on Earth had been very rare, and she was not able to enter Hell. On the short occasions they had been able to meet - literally between Heaven and Hell - there had never be much time. There had never been enough time. Azrael felt a slight nervousness creep up her spine, but shook it off indignantly. She was the Angel of Death after all. How could she be nervous about a reunion with her brother? No matter what she would find behind this ridiculously shabby door, she would cope with it. So the Angel of Death braced herself and turned the knob.

 

* * *

 

 

Lucifer was nearly proud of tonight's catch. The man was huge. He had broad stature, bull's neck included, his head was closely shaved, and he was really tall. He was a bit plump but very straightforward with his needs. And with his loathing. He was the prototype of a suppressed gay man who hated himself for his desires - probably because he was in the military. He promised to be a very painful, and therefore very dulling, experience. Not only because of the brute force this man was surely able to produce, but also because of the long sharp army knife he was fondling with all the time. They had been in the room for not even five minutes, and the man had hit Lucifer already. He was standing in the middle of the room, with the door to his back, and roughly pushed Lucifer onto his knees in front of him, ordering him to open his belt while showering him with insults.

 

Suddenly, a long thin blade appeared against the man's throat.

"You have two options. The first is to leave this room this very instant. The second is to die in this room this very instant. Your choice. Choose now."

The voice saying these words was calm in a way the man, a trained member of the special forces, instantly recognized as dangerous. He wanted to turn his head to get a look at his attacker, but he did not dare to move his neck. The knife's blade was sharp. He could already feel a thin trickle of blood against his skin, and he had no intention of the scratch becoming a cut. The voice sounded female, but it was somehow out of place. A little bit too hollow and very dark. It reminded him of smoke. _Interesting_ , he thought, so _meone is holding a knife to my throat and I have nothing better to do than picturing voices_. He was not stupid. He had no interest in a fight, even if he was sure that he would win it. Eventually. But the slight chance of losing included the possibility of dying in a brothel in Thailand in a room that belonged to a man, and that would just be way too shameful to even risk it. So he dropped the knife and put his hands up over his head.

"Leave."

He dared speak no louder than a whisper.

Feeling the blade still on his throat, he was guided to the door. The second he was through it, the knife vanished and the door was shut in his face. His attacker had acted so fast, he hadn't even be able to glance at her.

 

Azrael shut the door behind the man and lingered for a moment, eyes closed, against the door. Behind her, she heard an angry growl.

 

"How _dare_ you!" She heard her brother hissing. "Who the Hell do you think you are, storming in here and scaring away my painkiller? Do you have the slightest idea who you are..."

 

Azrael took a deep unnecessary breath and turned around, facing her brother. He was still on his knees, a furious glance in his eyes. Eyes that locked with hers. The moment he saw her, the ranting stopped mid-sentence, the words dying on his tongue. The fury vanished instantly. He just stared at her, not sure if all the drugs he had taken in the last months had finally decided to affect him and he was hallucinating or if she was real.

 

"Azrael," he whispered.

He did not dare to say it any louder, afraid that the sound might chase away this welcomed hallucination.

 

She was at his side before he had finished calling her name. She went to her knees, crashing into him with full force, holding on to him for dear life. Her embrace was fierce and powerful, and yet she was shaking. She buried her head deep into his neck, whispering his name over and over again. _Samael_. His old name, his real name. A name that had lost all its meaning for everyone except for her.

 

It was real. She was real. The moment he realized this fact, something in Lucifer changed. Gone was his need to dull the pain, gone was his desire to fog up reality. He could not drown anymore, could not drift away. He was safe now. He had an anchor now. Azrael had always been his anchor, his rescue. She was the one foundation that he could build on when everything else was falling apart. She had always been.

 

"Oh, sister," he said with trembling voice, "you are here. You came for me. I have been through so much pain, I don't know if I could have handled it any longer."

He returned the embrace, hugging her so hard that, if she was human, he would have been afraid of suffocating her.

"I could feel your pain," she managed to tell him between some very surprising sobs, "It woke me up. What happened?"

Lucifer, similarly, fought to control his emotions. He could barely keep his voice under control.

"It was all a lie," he whispered, closing his eyes and trying to fight back that big lump in his throat.

"I chose to take a life to save another, because her life was everything to me. Because I thought it was real. Only to find out that I was, again, just being messed with by Father and his bloody whatever-it-is-about endless plan. And now, after finding this out, I think about it all the time. Was anything real? Had I made the same choice if I had known? Had I killed him if I had known about her? What she was? Had I? How can I ever redeem myself? How?"

All of this spilled out of him between heartbreaking sobs, making it hard to even understand him.

Azrael took her head out of his neck and looked directly into his eyes. So that was causing the pain. The fear that he had made the wrong choice because he did not know better. And guilt. And feeling betrayed. What a mess. She lifted her hand up to his face and gently caressed his cheek.

"Don't worry," she whispered, forcing a smile on her face, "we will sort this out. What is done, is done. You lost yourself in a very dark place, my beloved. Let me help you find your way back, alright?"

He sighed, still trembling, but already calmer than before.

"I don't know. You might not want to help me after you hear what I’ve done - who I’ve killed."

She saw fear creep back in his eyes when he went on with his explanation.

"I didn’t take a human life, but one of ours.... One of our brothers."

His voiced cracked, "It was Uriel, Sister. I wiped him out of existence entirely, for good, for all eternity, with one of _your_ blades."

That was it, he had said it. He had told her about his great, unforgivable sin, his fratricide. Now she would leave him. She would be disgusted by him, and leave, leave him behind to rot in this dirthole for all eternity.

Azrael just stared at him, silently. He was not sure for how long, it seemed to be hours, but it probably were just a few minutes, if even a minute. Then she leaned forward, hugging him tightly and gently kissing his cheek.

"I will not lie to you," she whispered into his ear, "Uriel's death hurts me deeply, and I will mourn for him one day, but I know that if you made this choice, it was the right one at that moment. There is no sin you can commit that will drive me away from you. We are night and day, Brother. Morningstar and Eveningstar. We are born from one soul. I will always be there for you, because deep inside, I am you."

She kissed him in the cheek again and then got up onto her feet, stretching out her hand to him.

"And now come and get up. Let us leave this filth, and find us a nicer place to stay. You need a bath, Brother. _And_ a shower. And then you can tell me the whole story. We have a lot to catch up on."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments! Kudos! Flowers! Chocolates! Rotten fruit? Only if it's wine! 
> 
> The next chapter is already in pre-production, I hope I have still some readers after this one...


	3. Catching Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to comment about this chapter, except that it more or less closes the "prologue". By the end of this story, I will owe my soul to tiredwriter, best beta of all times...

Frustrated and angry, Chloe threw her _Lucifer file_ to the side and turned off the lights. She was no closer to getting answers than she had been when Lucifer left four months ago. She was still hurt, but the sleepless nights got less and less. Well, except this night obviously. She had allowed her thoughts to drift around when going to bed, after watching a ridiculously cheesy movie with Maze and a bottle of red wine. Damn, she should have known better than to trigger her emotions by combining a movie about undying-against-all-odds love with way too many glasses of Merlot. Now she was lying in her bed, far away from sleep, and thinking about Lucifer. Missing him. She was not even sure why, or what exactly she was missing. Except, he was the best partner she ever had - now that he was gone she had to team up with Dan of all people. He was still on probation after being demoted and she was technically his superior, but that didn’t make working cases with her ex-husband any easier. She had thought that after she was proven right about Palmetto Street that the tension between her and the rest of the precinct would ease, but she was wrong. It was worse, because the whole department seemed to feel collectively guilty about misjudging her and so they continued to avoid her Oh, and they were definitely a hell of a lot nicer when talking to her. It was nauseating.

 

So she missed her partner. And her best friend. The one person who always had her back, always was there for her, and always would cheer her up. Chloe trusted Lucifer with her life. More, she even trusted him with Trixie's life. That had to mean something, hadn't it? She sighed and turned under her sheets, unable to find a comfortable sleeping position. Their situation was complicated. After all, there was still this little problem with his delusional idea of being the Devil. And immortal. And invulnerable (except when she was around, of course, what was a really creative explanation for being able to bleed). He was very persuasive in his role. For Heaven's sake, he had even convinced her to shot him. What was probably the stupidest thing Chloe had ever done in her life, _Hot Tub High School_ included. She still wondered what had driven him into this persona. But after seeing the horrible scars on his back, that looked as if someone had burned him with an iron, and hearing all the stories about his father, she suspected some really severe abuse in his youth. Maybe she should have tried to talk to him about that. Or to Amenadiel. Chloe still found it hard to believe that they were brothers, even if adopted. But maybe he could answer a few of her questions.

 

Again, Chloe turned around and changed her position, angrily hitting her pillow for not being comfortable at all. Sleep just did not want to come to her tonight. It was probably better that way. After all that wine chances were good that she would dream of Lucifer tonight. The way she had dreamed of him after their kiss on the beach. That had been one hell of a dream. But well, it had also been quite a kiss. Chloe sighed. What a kiss it had been. Sweet and tender, full of emotions, and surprisingly easy. As if she had never done anything else in her life than kiss Lucifer Morningstar. They had never really talked about it. About what it meant for them. What they were now. What they could be. Because he had left before they could have this talk. The coward had run off like a frightened little boy instead of facing her, her feelings, and their chances together.

 

Great, now she was angry again. Those sleepless nights always ended the same. First she was sad, then she went through her pathetically weak file on him (there were a few questionable incidents when he was around that she still had no logical explanation for), then she would try to sleep it off, tossing and turning in her bed but not able to sleep, over thinking their relationship until she finally came to the point where she got angry with him for leaving her. She wasn’t even sure that he left because of _her_. Maybe he had an important reason to leave the city without telling anyone, shortly after kissing her. Maybe he had left for good. She hoped not.

 

She hoped he would come back sooner or later. So she could punch him in the face for leaving. Or kiss him and tell him how much she had missed him. Or both. Whatever. She just wanted to see him again, she needed to. Which made her angry with herself. Since when was she so needy, especially for a man? She was a tough, independent woman after all. Chloe sighed again, removed the sheets and got up. She would never be able to sleep if she could not stop this unnerving train of thoughts. She needed to distract herself. Maybe a shower would help her get her thoughts together. Or, at least, help reduce her stress level and the tension that had built up below her navel. Okay, maybe she could think of Lucifer a bit more, just while taking a shower. Just like the night after their kiss...

 

* * *

 

 

Lucifer stood on the balcony of their hotel suite in Bangkok and gazed at the skyline of the city, enjoying the cool evening breeze that caressed his sweaty body. The city was buzzing with life, even in the middle of the night. Just like Los Angeles. It reminded him of L.A. in a lot of ways, actually. It had this special glow of vital creativity, of desire and persuasion, the whole city a promise to fulfill the dreams that brought people here. _Welcome, stranger_ , it seemed to say, _whatever you are searching for, whatever you are dreaming of, you will find it here_. The people living in Bangkok had always had a special connections to higher spheres, to wishes and dreams and prayers for happiness, lust and desire. They believed the city to be a holy place, a home for celestial beings. That's why they called it _Krung Thep_. _City of Angels_. How fitting. He took a deep breath of the night air. Despite the breeze it was warm and humid. The breeze fought bravely against the tropic climate, but it stood no chance. Bangkok smelled amazing. Like life and joy. Exotic spices mixed with the sweat of millions of humans mixed with that slight salty odour that reminded you of the nearby ocean. He liked it. Maybe Bangkok was worth staying. He could use a fresh start. The city was worth a try. Even if it never would be as glorious as Los Angeles, it could possibly become a suitable surrogate.

 

Suddenly, he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, touching the skin right next to his scars. He looked to the side and saw Azrael standing there; long strands of pitch black hair waving around her like a curtain. Usually, she wore it in a complicated braid, but tonight it was loose. She looked at him and smiled.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked him, while gently caressing the skin on his shoulder, drawing small circles with her thumb.

"Staying," he answered, turning his head back to the skyline in front of them. "I like the view. Maybe I could try to make this place my new home. Or ours, if you stay with me."

 

Azrael leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes, enjoying the calm of the moment. The last few days had been exhausting. After she found him in that disgusting brothel, wallowing in a pool of self-pity, they had left Pattaya and travelled to Bangkok, because she thought a change of place would help him recover. They had to use a bus for the journey because Sa- no, _Lucifer_ , she corrected herself (he was very sincere about her not using his _old name_ ), had cut off his wings. She had been so terribly shocked by this revelation that she had slapped him in the face. He had cut off his wings. His _wings_. He had mutilated himself, ripped off a part of his body that was as much a part of him as his arms or legs. She did not ask him why he had done it. She knew. But she still did not understand. How could he have been so stupid?

 

Going by bus was way beneath her dignity and she hated it, but she had no choice, because her brother could not fly. It had taken them two hours. Two long hours during which she sat in a disgusting seat and could do nothing but watch out the window because a bus full of human tourists was definitely the wrong place for the siblings' conversation topics, while Lucifer was leaning on her shoulder, gazing into nothing. In Bangkok, they had booked into an _Exclusive Suite_ at the Shangri-La, because Azrael decided that her brother desperately needed some luxury. His credit card did the rest. The hotel nearly refused them for Lucifer's shattered looks (and, to be honest, his smell), but, like her brother, the Angel of Death could be _very_ persuasive.

 

The moment they entered their suite, she ran him a bath. When she helped him with taking off his clothes and she saw the terrible scars on his back, shock hit her like a bucket of ice cold water. Until that moment she had not really realized what he had done to himself.

"Oh brother," she said with breaking voice, tears welling in her eyes, "How desperate must you have been. I am so sorry."

"Don't be," he said, striking his thumb gently over her cheek to wipe away the tears, "It was my choice to cut them off. I had to get rid of them so I could truly be a part of this world. They were a reminder of my past and a burden. I do not miss them."

 

While Lucifer was taking his very necessary bath, Azrael went back to the bedroom. It contained a huge wardrobe with a wide full-body mirror and king-size four-poster bed that looked very soft and inviting. Azrael stood in front of the mirror and took her dress off, watching her reflection. Then she spread her wings and examined them closely in the mirror. They were impressive. Each wing had a span of more than three meters when fully spread. The feathers were of a deep, light-absorbing black, thick and heavy. They looked like a negative of her brother's. Or, what her brother's had looked like. Right now, they felt soft against her touch, warm and comforting, but they could also become sharper than razor blades and harder than steel within the blink of an eye, if she wanted them to. An angel's wings were not only for flying and the good looks. They were weapons. No other angel's wings were as dangerous as those of the Angel of Death. If she wanted them to be. She closed her eyes and imagined them being not part of her body anymore, but it was like imagining missing a leg. She just couldn't. Shuddering, she retracted her wings. Even after all those years, all the millennia, she was still amazed by how they just seemed to vanish into thin air when she wished them to do. They were still there, she could still _feel_ them - but they were gone. They were not just invisible, they were untraceable. And then, within the blink of an eye, they would appear again, if she called for them. They were, by far, her Father's most wonderful invention.

 

Lucifer had not only cut off his wings, he had also burned them. Azrael doubted that the fire had really destroyed the wings. They may have vanished in the flames, but they were body parts of an immortal angel, after all. Something as the mere fire would probably be not enough to destroy the wings of an angel, who once had been the _Lightbringer_ , a creator of stars. Maybe they had just gone into another realm. She would see, sooner or later, if her supposition was correct. Azrael did not share this thought with her brother. He would probably just throw a tantrum if he realized that his wings still could be _somewhere out there_.

 

The next days went by very quickly. They did not once leave the hotel room, spending their days with catching up. Lucifer told his sister about everything that had happened since he had left Hell nearly  six years ago. He told her about Lux (Azrael was curious to find out more about the concept of a nightclub or a piano bar first-hand), about his demon's trip to self-discovery, and especially about his work with the LAPD and a certain detective. He seemed to have enjoyed his last years on Earth very much. No wonder the revelation about their Father putting this woman in his path had been such a shock. Especially after what happened with Uriel.

 

Her stupid little brother. How could he have been so foolish? Why would he mess around with one of her blades? Besides, Azrael was not even sure if the blade had done the trick and would have killed their mother, as Uriel had planned. She was not an angel, but a goddess, after all. She was a part of God, a piece of this omnipotent entity that had always existed and would exist for all eternity. She had not exactly a soul that could be wiped out. Not in the way that demons had no soul. Like God, she had so much more than _just_ a soul. But Uriel had always thought of himself as much a smarter angel than he actually was. In the end, his smart plan got him killed. He should not have threatened Lucifer. Bloody stupid Uriel! So for now, she decided to be angry with him. And that anger helped her cope with his death by the hand of one of _her_ weapons.

 

With every day, Lucifer's mood had become better and better, and after four days, he had been more or less his old self again, witty and cynical as ever. They enjoyed each other's company, rediscovering their relationship, and their closeness. After all, they had not seen each other for thousands of years. Lucifer, who had been created to bring joy and passion and happiness into the world, told her everything that he had learned about Earth and humanity over the course of this time, and she was eager to learn everything about it. Studying humans was so much better than killing them.

 

Still, once in awhile Azrael could see a flicker of sadness in her brother's eyes. They often appeared when they were about to sleep. They did not really need to, but sleep calmed the soul and was _pleasant_ , in a kind of way. But while Azrael really enjoyed sleeping, Lucifer seemed to shy it for some reason. Maybe he was afraid of dreaming. So she had not really been surprised when she had woken up in the middle of the night to find the spot next to her empty. She found Lucifer on the balcony, inhaling the city scent and staring into the night, thinking about staying in Bangkok.

 

"I do not think that you can try to make a place your home, brother." Azrael replied to his comment about making Bangkok their home. "It either is, or is not. And besides, I thought Los Angeles was your home."

"I don't think I can go back there, love," he looked at her, and there it was again, that flicker of sadness in his eyes. "With Mom there, and Amenadiel, and the detective, it would be just too overwhelming. I would always have to face the proof for Father's betrayal and all the manipulation. I could never be sure if their actions are based on what they actually want, or are part of a perverted scheme Father had in mind since probably the beginning of time. I do not want that. Not for me, and not for the detective. She deserves to lead a life based on her own choices, without supernatural intervention."

"Alright, I see," she answered, turning him to her, so she could face him. It was time to push him a little more in the direction she had decided was right for him. "Father played you, so you clear the field and leave the city you love. You give up your home and search for a new one. Do you know what that means, brother? It means that Father has cast you out of your home again. It means _he wins_."

"That is ridiculous!" He snorted. "That is absolutely not the reason why I do not want to return."

"Oh, it is. You are afraid of how to go on with your life in L.A., now that you know the truth about your detective. You are afraid to see her again. You let your feelings come in your way. You let another person stop you from doing what you want to do."

"That is not true," he hissed, his voice now alarmingly sharp.

"If it is not, then why do you not want to return to L.A.? Why don't you go there and get your life back? After all you told me, you seemed to have quite enjoyed it. The bar, the alcohol, the sex, the fun. It sounds like exactly that kind of life you would want to lead. So why let Him steal it from you? Since when are you such a coward?" Azrael asked him, crossing her arms across her chest.

For a few seconds, he stared at her in silence. Was she right? He had tried to convince himself that he was _walking_ away from L.A. to leave his Father's obscure plan behind him. Was he actually _running_ away? Like a coward he definitely did not want to be? What if him leaving L.A. and all the happiness he had experienced there actually was the intention of Father's plan? To drive him away from the first place in an eternity that he dared to call _home_? He could not allow that bloody bastard to win. Which was really hard if you were playing a game without knowing the rules, the players, or if you were even playing it at the moment. His Father was going to pay for that. And he, Lucifer, who was after all the Devil, for Hell's sake, would not be played with so easily. He would not lose the game.

"You are right. L.A. is my home. Lux is my home. I will not allow Father to shun me out of my home again. I will not give up so easily. I am the Lord of Hell, after all. I should be able to cope with everything L.A. throws at me."

Azrael grinned at him, "So we will leave for L.A. tomorrow?"

Lucifer nodded, "Yes, we will."

"Great!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together, "but before we leave, we should go out. After all you told me, going out sounds like a lot of fun. So tell me brother, what are we going to do in our last night in Bangkok?"

A wicked grin appeared on Lucifer's face. "Oh, I don't know yet. But I think we should start by showing you what a nightclub is."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am ready for your critiques to tear me apart! Just do it! Leave kudos as a sign of mercy! I will try to deliver the next chap by the end of the week...


	4. Returning Home

Lucifer exited LAX and took a deep breath. Finally, he was home again. A thought that still (positively) surprised him sometimes. Having a place to call home obviously meant more to him than he had expected. Interesting.

 

He took a look around, searching for Azrael. His sister still lacked the documents she needed to board a plane, so she had traveled to L.A. the old-fashioned way. She offered to take him with her, but, as he had already explained to her in Pattaya, no matter how desperate he was, he would never ever be desperate enough to allow his sister to carry him around like an overgrown toddler. Even he had his limits. So he’d refused her generous offer and taken a plane. During the flight he had started to regret this decision. Not because he was in a plane (Thai Airways first class flights left no space for complaints) but because he realised that Azrael would be in L.A. way before him. All alone. And as much as he loved his sister, he was worried about her. Azrael had been asleep for a good three-hundred and fifty years, and humanity had changed a lot since then. She was learning fast and trying to adapt her behaviour to the new century, but there were still a lot of potential surprises on her way. The thought terrified Lucifer because his sister's curious nature, short temper and lack of awareness for the worth of human life was not a good combination. So, if she got herself in a situation that she did not appreciate, chances were high that she would end the situation by just killing all the people around her.

 

Lucifer had explained to her that this was not a good idea and that she must not kill humans if she wanted to stay with him on Earth. Humans did not react well to that. She had promised him not to do something stupid, but he was not sure if she had really understood what he was trying to tell her. So, while he stood at the entrance of LAX, waiting for his sister, who was supposed to wait there for him, but was obviously late. He kind of expected to be greeted by her covered in blood, holding in her hand the head of the guy who accidentally stumbled into her on her way over, on her trail a squad of law enforcement troops. It was a worst case scenario, but with Azrael, you could never know. She attracted chaos and death like a light in the dark attracted moths. She had been alone in L.A. for about twelve hours now. For her, that was long enough to start the Apocalypse. Therefore, her lateness was making him nervous.

 

When he finally saw her, twenty minutes later, he kind of wished for the apocalyptic scenario that he had imagined a bit earlier to happen, because what he saw was worse. Kind of. She obviously had considered his request "when you reach L.A., go straight to the airport and wait there for my arrival" to be a nice, but nevertheless unbinding, proposal. Otherwise, he could not explain what he saw.

 

Azrael saw him, waved happily at him and walked over. She had cut her hair. It was still long but not obscenely so, as it had been before, and it was styled into big curls. She was wearing a blindingly white sundress with big yellow sunflowers printed all over it, and white sandals. In each hand, she held approximately a ton of shopping bags. It was scary.

 

"Hello again, my dear." Lucifer greeted her, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. "I see you figured out how to use my credut card. May I ask how you have spent your first twelve hours in L.A.?"

 

Azrael smiled at him, obviously very pleased with herself. "What a great age to live in! Humans developed very well over the past few hundred years. I was not aware how many different ways to enjoy yourself in Los Angeles, it is incredible! They always seek to reinvent themselves and change their appearances. So I used the last hours to do a little shopping and something humans call a makeover. Do you like my hair?"

 

"Yes, very curly. And your clothes are so... bright. That's unconventional for you. May I ask why you chose these colours?"

 

"I thought about all the things you told me, you know, about L.A. being your new home, and starting a new life and leaving Hell and Father and His plans all behind, and I decided it was worth a try. I am the Angel of Death, brother. Nobody likes me, even our siblings are afraid of me, and my whole existence until now was consisted of pain and darkness. So, I thought, if I want to leave this behind, I might start with bringing a lot more colour and brightness in my life." Azrael beamed with happiness. "And you know what? I love it. I think yellow is going to be my new favourite colour."

 

Lucifer rolled his eyes dramatically, but had to hide a grin. So his sister wanted to redo her life. That was brilliant. He was actually looking forward to their future together. With her by his side, L.A. was going to be even more fun than before. And if she enjoyed herself, he would willingly pay for it. Money had never really been a topic, after all.

 

"Fine. As long as you are happy, I am happy." He offered her his arm. "And now we need to go. We have plenty to organise before we can officially arrive back home." They entered a cab.

 

"This is so exciting" Azrael said. "Where will we go first?"

 

"Well, first we will go to the place where you will officially start your new life, love." He turned his head to the cab driver, who awaited to be told their destination. "Palmer Funeral Home, please."

 

* * *

 

 

Maze was hiding behind a trash can, waiting for her target to leave his house. She knew he was there, but unfortunately, it was against the law to just break in, hit him until he got unconscious, and then drag him back to the police station. She had to play by the rules, otherwise she would get no money. So she was waiting behind his trash can for him to leave his private property. It was getting boring. She had been there for at least twenty minutes already, and he was not showing. Maybe she could lure him out, somehow? Maze was thinking. She had a bottle of vodka in her car... if she set his house on fire, he sure would come out, wouldn't he? As far as she could remember, humans were afraid of fire. Yes, fire would definitely do the trick. And she would not break the rules by this, because she could throw her _Mazeotow_ cocktail (sounded better than Molotov, she thought) through his window from the street. Maze was very proud of herself for coming up with this plan.

 

The moment she wanted to leave her hiding place to head for her car, her bait's front door opened and he stepped out, a trash bag in his hand, and a grumpy look on his face. With inhumane speed, Maze ducked again. Had he seen her? She could hear him approach the trash. Obviously not. Good. Just a few more steps and he would be in reach. And then he would belong to her.

 

Like a cat ready to jump for a mouse, Maze prepared to attack the bail fugitive. All her muscles tightened. He was close now. Just a few more steps...

 

Maze could practically smell him standing on the other side of the trash cans. Suddenly, like an arrow let go, she jumped right over the cans, directly from her sitting position, punching the guy's chin with her fist. He stumbled backwards, but recovered from his surprise very quickly. Using the trash bag as a shield, he countered Maze's attack with a heavy punch against her rib cage. The guy was tall and strong, and his powerful punch would have broken any humans ribs. Unfortunately for him, the bounty hunter attacking him was nothing near a human.

 

Maze kicked the trash bag aside, grabbed her bait's shoulders with both hands, and rammed her knee into his groin, full-force. The man gave a gurgling noise and went to his knees immediately, holding his hands protectively over his testicles. Maze, who never was known to be a fair fighter, used this position to kick him again, this time in his stomach. To be absolutely sure that he would not be able to reattack her again, she took out her taser and gave him a good load of electricity to digest. The guys eyes rolled into the back of his head and he dropped to the pavement, unconscious. To be absolutely sure, Maze tasered him again (also, she really liked how human's limbs started to shake under the influence of electricity, it looked so funny). Then she shouldered him, dragged him to her car, handcuffed him, shoved him in her trunk and drove off.

 

The whole incidentt had taken no longer than a minute, so, when the victim's girlfriend came through the front door to look for her guy and to find out what the strange noise had been she had heard, all she saw was a ripped open trash bag lying on the pavement next to the trash cans.

 

Maze was very pleased with herself. The guy in her trunk was worth two thousand and five hundred dollars, which meant she would pay a hell of a round on tomorrow's girls night. She hardly couldn't wait for it. The last months had been hard on her, and their - now nearly weekly - girls night was kind of her lone highlight. For four months, she had not heard a single word from Lucifer. She couldn't even be mad at him for this, after all, she kind of did not tell him immediately about Decker being a freakish fucking miracle, so he probably was really mad at her. But then, she had helped to kill him and to bring him back from Hell, which should count for something, shouldn't it? Mazikeen tried to tell herself that Lucifer could not be mad at her forever, but she knew this was not true. She knew him for millennia by now, and she knew exactly how long he could hold a grudge. Which was forever. If she knew where he was at least, then she could go there, she could try to explain, and to ask his forgiveness. After all, she did not hide the miracle bullshit to hurt him. She did it to protect him. Not for the first time in the last months, Maze cursed herself. She should have never ever given into the bitch's request of helping her tell Lucifer. She should have stayed out of it. Or slit the bitch's throat. Or both. And now Lucifer was gone. He had left the city, and, as far as she could feel, the continent. In the beginning, she had regularly tried to reach out for him, to feel him, but had failed. She could not feel him when he was to far away from her. She was no angel, she was his demon. His protector, his first general, but still just a demon. Her powers were more limited than an angel's. So, when he went to far away from her, and, additional, refused to be found, she would never be able to seek him out. Shitty little fucker. Running away from her like a big baby. When he returned, she would _so_ punch him for that. If he returned.

 

While driving to the next police station and sulking in these heavy thoughts, Maze nearly missed the soft tingling sensation she started to feel in the back of her head. It was a quiet buzzing, like the noise of a fridge that you used to overhear because it was in the background all the time. A noise that's absence you would suddenly realize, now really being sure what it was, that was absent at first. The feeling had been absent for quite a while, but now, whilst driving the car, it suddenly came back. It might have been back for hours by now, until she realized it. Maze was so shocked by the feeling that she nearly crashed the car. She hit the brakes and drove to the side of the street. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the feeling, to make sure it wasn't just her own phantasy playing her a dirty fucking prank. But no. There it was. This small, quiet buzz. She opened her eyes again and a dirty, cat-like grind appeared on her face. That little fucker, that - literal - son of a bitch. He had returned to L.A.

 

Lucifer was back.

 

* * *

 

 

Neil Palmer was starting to get desperate. He was aware that his (living) clients could be a bit of a nuisance, but this situation was especially complicated. Morningstar had returned to him, giving him a surprise visit, at his side a woman (very pale, small, impressive cleavage, black curls, black eyes, and, even if she was constantly smiling, kind of very intimidating) who needed "the starter package, please. You know, the same you gave me. Passport, birth certificate, driver's licence, social insurance number, and so on."

 

Whilst he had started with the preparations, the woman and Morningstar had taken a look around, disturbed the peace of at least two of his dead clients and now the woman was testing out his coffins. It gave him the creeps, really.

 

"Well, Mr. Morningstar, I am done with the preparations. Now I need a name for the lady."

 

Lucifer helped the woman out of a coffin, straightened his suit and returned to Palmer's desk, the woman at his side. They sat down in the visitor chairs. "Of course, let's finish this, shall we?" Morningstar said, smiling at him. He looked at the woman. "So, what name do you want to have as a human?"

 

She looked at him with big eyes. "Well, my own of course. I'll go with Azrael Evenstar, please."

 

Oh great, she was another freak. The more extravagant a name, the harder to make up the backstory. People tended to forget being in school with Jane Brown, but they would definitely remember a name like Azrael Evenstar. He coughed. "May I remind you that this sounds very uncommon? Maybe a more common name would be more suitable?"

 

Lucifer looked mildly irritated. "Neil, my dear, my sister here wishes to use her real name here on Earth. I know this might be a bit harder, and also a bit more expensive than naming her Candy od Britney, but if she wishes to go by Azrael, then I am sure you can make this happen. After all, you did my papers too, and they stand against police scrutiny very nicely."

 

Palmer blinked. Morningstar was fucking annoying, but he was right. It would be expensive. And he would pay without the blink of an eye every sum Neil asked him to.

 

"Of course, Mr. Morningstar. But may I remind you that siblings usually go by the same surname? If you introduce Miss Azrael as your sister, people will get very irritated by her having another name. Also, presenting a sudden new family member might be a bit difficult."

 

"Well, but that's what I am." The woman said. Her voice was surprisingly deep, and somehow... hollow. "I am his family. Just write this on the documents. It cannot be that hard."

 

Lucifer rolled his eyes at his sister's ignorance and turned to Neil. "I understand that generating a family might be complicated. But I need her to be legally connected with me in her identity, for safety reasons. So, please, Mr. Palmer, do your work. And make it your best, please. I will pay you generously for that."

 

Neil sighed. That was the problem with Morningstar. You explained the problem to him, and in return, he would just smile at you and tell you to work around it.

 

Lucifer turned his head back to the woman next to him. "Could you live with a piece of paper stating your name to be Azrael Morningstar? It would speed up things, you know. And it's just paper.”

 

The woman stared at him for a few moments, then nodded.

 

"Wonderful!" Lucifer excitingly clapped his hands. "See, Mr. Palmer? Problem solved. Now just start your magical printer and provide us with the necessary items to integrate my sister into my life, and off we'll go."

 

* * *

 

 

A few hours later, just as the sun started to set in the west and filled the tower with beautiful evening lights, Lucifer finally returned to his apartment over LUX, accompanied by an overly excited Angel of Death. Azrael was highly enthusiastic about idea of getting to know humans from the inside, diving into their world and trying to understand them, their dreams and hopes, instead of just hopping around and killing them off. The cool down phase would take her a few days, Lucifer thought. He looked forward to it. Introducing humanity to Azrael would be fun.

 

So, whilst his sister was inspecting his (or rather, from now in, their) apartment, removing the covers of the furniture on her tour, the retired King of Hell poured himself a generous glass of whiskey and sat on the bench of his piano. With one hand he started to play a few single notes. The instrument was still perfectly in tune.

"Hello, old friend," he murmured, taking a sip of his whiskey and, after putting the glass on the piano as he always did, gliding his hand over the smooth, cold surface of the polished body, "Did you miss me?"

 

Finally, he was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you like it? I hope so. I'll try to upload the next chapter faster than this one. And as always: Praise me or grill me in the comment's. And leave Kudos if you like this story! Thank you!


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